What Remained Untold
by Ventisquear
Summary: Collecion of DA2 oneshots and drabbles or what Varric and Isabela decided to keep for themselves
1. Almost Had An Idea

Because it happens even to the best authors...

Thanks to Brelaina, for beta-reading this.

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><p><strong>Almost Had An Idea<strong>

Those walls really needed fresh paint, he decided. They looked as if Broody was redecorating them... perhaps even a bit worse.

Now was not the time to think about the walls though, he reminded himself. He had a book to write and he hadn't even started yet. He stared at the sheets of paper in front of him, but his mind remained just as blank. Perhaps some coffee would help. He rang the bell for Norah.

"Yes, Messere Varric?" She asked in her most annoyed voice.

"Could I have some coffee, please?"

"Again? That'll be the third pot today. And I hope you're going to clean that mess. I'm not going to do it, I'm telling you." She nodded towards the heaps of crumpled sheets on the floor.

"Naturally. Why would anyone expect cleaning from the maid? Don't worry, all I need is fresh coffee every hour or so."

She rolled her eyes, but nodded and picked up the empty pot and dirty cup and was almost out the door, when he called again.

"And don't let anyone in. I'm not here." He thought for a while. "Except Blondie. And Daisy. Broody…. Hm, yes, you may let Broody in. In fact, you may let in all my companions, except Rivaini. Understand?"

"Don't want her to steal my ideas again," he muttered as Norah closed the door behind her.

Right now there were no ideas to steal, but that was besides the point.

A few moments later, Norah returned with big pot of strong black coffee. He drank one cup immediately. Then he rolled his wrists and flexed fingers a few times. Leaning on the chair, he stretched his back, and rotated his head from side to side. Perfect. Fresh as new. Now the real work could finally start.

The story will be about... about... he drummed his fingers on the desk. Think. Focus. The story will be about... hm... perhaps – yes, that would be - but the idea was already gone. It wasn't that interesting anyway. So instead, it will be about... about...

A dozen or so "abouts" later he had to admit that perhaps Maker knew what it would be about, but _he_ had no idea whatsoever.

This was ridiculous. What was this supposed to be, anyway? A writer's block? Oh come on. Everyone knew writer's block was just a fancy term made up by whiners so they could have an excuse to drink alcohol. Real authors never had it. They would simply start writing about whatever crossed their mind first. A word led to another word, then to a sentence, then to a paragraph, and before you knew it, the story was done. Right. He only needed a word.

Such as… for example… which one would be the best, hm…

It was because he was tired, he decided, pushing away the annoying voice that said there was no reason to be tired today. Today was his free day, sure, but that didn't mean he couldn't be tired. All he needed was a break, something to eat and a real drink, not that piss-like coffee. And fresh air.

Right. It would not only clear his head, but perhaps seeing other people would give him some ideas for a story. Grabbing his coat and Bianca, he walked out of the room, yelling to Norah that he had important business elsewhere and not to let anyone into his room while he was away.

He stepped outside and took a deep breath. Dirt, piss, sweat and stale fishes. Sometimes he liked it, found it inspiring, this smell of tragedies and traumas, lost innocence and despair, poverty and injustice…

Speaking of justice, he hadn't seen Blondie in a few days… poor guy is probably overworking himself again. Perhaps he should go to check up on him.

No, not today. Today he wanted to find an idea for his new book.

But perhaps one of Blondie's patient's stories would inspire him? Hmmm. That might be worth checking.

Two hours later, he left the clinic, still with no idea, but with a bad headache and a tincture that he was supposed to deliver to Hawke's mother for her stiff joints.

When Anders asked him if he could do it, he wanted to refuse. His free day was slipping away and he still hadn't written anything. But then he decided to do it; at least Hightown didn't smell, if nothing else. After all, he wouldn't stay long.

The trip to Hightown took another two hours, mostly because of Garrett – when that man started talking, nobody could stop him. But also because Leandra insisted that he stayed for a lunch. To invite such invitation with an excuse of writing a story would be rude.

Now, however, he really needed start working hard. He had a nice talk with his friends, a really delicious lunch and enough fresh air for a week. There was nothing that could stop him now. It was going to be a great story, best ever; Rivaini was going to die of envy. It would be full of his genius and sparkling wit. Oh, it would be great fun to write it. He couldn't wait to start working on it.

He returned to the Hanged Man in a much better mood, complimented Norah's lovely eyes – which she in return narrowed in suspicion and asked if he was drunk – and proceeded right to his room. He sat behind his desk, took the new sheet of paper, sharpened his quill, dipped it into the ink and –

… it will be such a great story…

… it will be about…

… about…

Those walls _really_ needed fresh paint.


	2. Don't Go

Based on kmeme prompt asking for Hawke ending the relationship with Anders and returning back to Fenris.

Thanks to **Brelaina** for beta-reading this.

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><p><strong>Don't Go<strong>

_Don't go_, he begged, but Fenris didn't listen. Bang of the door and he was gone, leaving Gavin alone in the bed, still warm, still smelling of his lover, but both the warmth and smell quickly disappearing.

He waited, hoping beyond hope that Fenris would come back, explain himself. Especially when he saw that the elf put the Amell crest on his belt and wrapped his red shawl around his wrist. That had to mean something, right? But his waiting was in vain. Fenris carefully avoided not only talking about it, but even staying with Gavin alone for more than a few minutes. It made him feel like a dirty, tainted thing that was better to be avoided.

Anders helped. Always there for him, always trying to cheer him up, caring and friendly. Before he noticed, it became something more, and even though thinking of Fenris still hurt, he learnt to ignore it. He finally found his share of luck, that was avoiding him for so long; he would not endanger it by memories. Months turned into years and everything seemed great, like in fairy tale.

But if it was a fairy tale, then it was a beginning, before all the horrible things happened, not the happy end.

Anders was changing, Justice claiming more of him every day and there was nothing he could do, no way to save his lover. _Distraction_. Anders never said it aloud, but Gavin knew: this was what he had become now. Distraction from the great plans for saving the mages. Not that he was against it, Maker knew he wasn't, he tried to support Anders as much as he could, but it seemed it wasn't enough, not for Justice.

And the abyss between them increased every day. Anders was still nice and gentle, but it was more politeness of a well-bred man than the true care of a lover. Always busy, always gone on some quest against the Templar.

_Don't go_, he begged, but Anders didn't listen. A gentle kiss on the cheek, _sorry my love, you know how important this is for me_, and then Gavin was left alone once again.

Yes, Gavin knew how important it was. But it used to be important for _both_ of them.

What now, he wasn't sure. Anders often said he needed Gavin, but he wasn't sure what it meant any more. Needed him how? For what? What he meant for Anders? Someone always available, willing and for free? Comfortable accommodation, where all his needs were taken care of? A famous name for his campaign?

And strange enough, as Anders became more distant, Fenris became more closer. It was confusing. Frustrating. Fenris left him. Fenris was his first, first love _and_ first lover, but Gavin knew now it was always only one sided. So what did the elf want from him now?

When they killed Danarius, Fenris came to him. To apologise. He stared at him, surprised. _Now_ he came? After _three years_? And he really thought one "forgive me, Hawke," would be enough?

"I'm not your toy, Fenris. I... can't. I don't want to... be left alone again."

"I will never leave you again, Hawke... Gavin." Only once before had Fenris used his name - during that night.

"It's not that easy. I need to... Give me time, Fenris," he said, eyes averted.

Part of him dreaded that Fenris would get offended and leave, but the other part said _so what_. Who said he couldn't be selfish, too, at least a little bit, in things like this?

Fenris just nodded, then took his hand into his, and kissed his palm. "I will wait for you, Gavin, as long as necessary, even till the end of the world."

oOo

It didn't take till the end of the world; only till the end of Kirkwall.

There he was, his lover, the man who once said Gavin was his reason for living, reason why he was still sane. But he didn't know this man. Anders he knew and loved was a healer, not a murderer with the blood of innocents on his hands. Calmly explaining his betrayal and then daring to ask Gavin to kill him. Once again, he was to be the one that made the final blow, the one that people would point their fingers at, _oh look, that's the Champion, who __destroyed bandits, who finished the Carta, who killed Meeran, __who killed dragons, who killed the Arishok, who killed __**his lover**_. No. Fucking. Way.

"Go, Anders. Go wherever you want, I don't care. You're alone. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important business to do."

Anders stared at his feet, he could see there were tears in his eyes, that he wanted to say something, but he didn't care. Anders made his choice. He chose Justice. Why should he sacrifice himself so that Anders wouldn't have to bear the consequences? When Anders reached his hand, he turned away. A moment of silence, then slow, wavering steps.

Feeling as if he was going to shatter into thousands of pieces, he asked the others to give him a moment alone, and thanks the Maker, nobody protested or asked anything. He sat there in silence, alone, staring at the knife that Anders had pressed into his fingers. What would happen if he used that knife on himself, if he ended it all here, let someone else be the bloodied Champion and save the day.

Then someone sat down next to him and took the knife out of his hands. He recognised Fenris's smell, but didn't lift his eyes.

"Gavin. Even if you don't forgive me... Please, let me stand through this with you."

He lifted his head and their eyes finally met.

"Why?"

"Because I can't stand the idea of living without you."

"And you're sure you won't leave after fucking me?"

He could see that hit the nerve, that he hurt him, but he didn't really care. It hurt much more to be left alone like a cheap whore.

"I will never leave again. Whatever the future might bring for us, I want to be at your side, forever."

Fenris's voice sounded sincere, and a little ray of hope lit up in that cold emptiness in his soul. Perhaps...

"Perhaps we can try again," he said, and then Fenris's arms were around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

They stayed like that until Varric softly coughed behind them. Right. Business first. He held Fenris's hand and squeezed it hard. They would stand through this.

Together.


	3. Admirer

Ehm... another smut attempt, based on the kmeme prompt... because Carver was so cute when he said he wanted to be like Meeran. How could I resist?

Thanks to Brelaina for beta-reading this.

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><p><strong>Admirer<strong>

Those Hawke lads, thought Meeran, they were a real blessing sent by the Maker. Hard workers, efficient, and reliable, so far they never failed to finish the job. In fact, when others failed, he could count on those two to set the things right again.

That, and they were the best looking guys he had ever recruited to the Red Irons.

The older one, Garrett, was surprisingly strong for a mage; combine that with a sexy beard and witty comments, and most ladies (and men, but Garrett was completely oblivious to that) were swooning after one word from him.

But Carver, the younger one... Meeran licked his lips. Maker, only thinking about that lad made him painfully hard. So slim, but muscular, and those eyes, piercing, challenging, that smug arrogant smirk on his lips... And yet the lad was so completely innocent, unaware that his brooding was just as sexy as his brother's wit; he'd bet the lad was still a virgin.

It didn't help that Carver behaved as if he was his greatest idol. The respect in the lad's voice every time they spoke together, those admiring glances, when he thought Meeran wasn't looking, it made his blood boil. Knowingly or not, that lad was begging to be fucked and for a few times already, he barely restrained himself from grabbing the lad, bending him over the first solid thing and banging him hard.

For more than a month now he was looking for some opportunity to get to the lad, and now he finally got one. He gave them one difficult job, one that no one else wanted to take. When they returned (there was no way those two could fail) he would say that as a special reward, he'd taking them to the Rose. There he already arranged things to have some private time with the lad.

And then... he closed his eyes and slid his hand into his pants. Soon, it would be Carvers hot lips around him and that that tight, virgin ass... he moaned and spilt over his hand.

Soon.

oOo

Carver tried not to stare at Meeran's broad chest in that unbuttoned shirt, at those thick curls trailing lower and lower... but damn, it was difficult. He was going to have one of those dreams again.

When Meeran told them he was taking them to the Rose, a special treat for a job well done, he was totally mortified, but he couldn't see any way out, without making his little secret painfully obvious to everyone. That he likes men.

He didn't realise it until recently. Back in Lothering, he was dating girls, but mostly because it was expected from him. With Peeches they got as far as a few Orleisan kisses, the real ones, with tongue. But he didn't like it very much and couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Really it was wet and... weird, that's all.

Then they came in Kirkwall, and he met Meeran for the first time. He liked his accent and the way he talked and how calm he seemed, always the one in control, even though he wasn't a mage. And then they joined the Red Irons. There were few women there, and they all swooned immediately when they saw his brother, but for once, he didn't care. Because it was there that he realised that he was attracted to masculine, muscular bodies, such as... Meeran's.

Their boss was not young any more, but he was perfect. Strong. Firm. And it wasn't just his body; his strong will and discipline always caused respect in all men that met him.

Soon, he started thinking what it would be like if _Meeran_ kissed him. Sometimes he had those dreams, where Meeran was kissing him and touching his cock, their bodies pressed together... He overheard some men in the Red Iron talking about it and so he knew it was possible for two men to have sex together, and that they put cocks in each other's ass. But that sounded too gross to be true and it wouldn't even fit, anyway. He was sure the men knew he was listening and were just talking nonsense, to make a fool of him.

And now everyone would find out, unless he managed to get it on somehow with a woman. He didn't really care about the others, or even Rett. But Meeran laughing at him was an unbearable thought. Perhaps he would even kick him off the Red Irons, and he would be a shame and the laughing stock of the whole family again...

He reached for a bottle and took a few long gulps directly from it. One of the girls that was sitting in Rett's lap giggled. But Meeran didn't mind. And he needed courage.

Some time later Rett left with the girls, but Meeran stayed with him, and ordered more wine, Maker bless him. It was good and without the ugly girls squeaking around, his mood quickly improved. Meeran was so funny and clever and looked so hot...

Three empty bottles later, he couldn't stand it any more. He leaned on Meeran and ran his hands through that chest hair. It felt _soooo goood_.

"Meeran, I luv ya." He blinked. He shouldn't have said that. It was bad. He couldn't quite remember why but he knew it was bad.

"Come. I think we should have a talk in private."

Aw daaaamn Meeran was mad at him. "You gonna spank me, boss?"

"You bet. That and much, much more." Meeran took him to a room with big soft bed and locked the door behind him. The next moment Carver was pinned to the bed.

"No stop, you're doing it wrong," he said and Meeran looked at him, surprised. "We're always naked in that dream," he explained.

Meeran growled, just like Rett's mabari, when he was angry. He giggled. He wanted to say it loud so he could laugh too but Meeran growled again.

"You dream about it? Then let's make it true. What else are we doing?"

"Kissing," he giggled. "And you're lying on the top of me."

"And then?" Meeran's voice sounded funny, like he was shouting all day and he giggled again.

"You sound awful, boss. Really funny."

Meeran was naked already and now started to undress him, too. It tickled and he laughed and squirmed under Meeran's strong arms.

"What else were we doing in those dreams?" Meeran's voice sounded even funnier now.

"Nothing. That's all," he said and started to giggle at the incredulous look Meeran gave him.

"_Nothing_?"

Silly Meeran. What a stupid thing to ask. "Nooo-thing. At aaaall. Nothing else two men can do."

Meeran laughed and licked his lips. "There is. A lot more. I'll show you."

"All of it?"

"Absolutely," said Meeran with a hungry smirk and leant in to kiss him.

oOo

When they broke the kiss, Carver giggled, again. "You're better than Peeches," he said.

Maker, this lad was driving him crazy. It took all his will to stop himself from just flipping the lad onto his belly and nailing him to the mattress. Normally he wouldn't bother, but this was Carvers's first time; in fact, his babbling, drunken innocence was so sweet that were he a decent man, he would have stopped completely. But he was a mercenary - and right now, a rather… _impatient_ mercenary.

He kissed him hungrily again, while grabbing Carver's cock with his right hand and was very pleased to hear that the sound the lad made as he squeezed it a little was definitely not a giggle. Pulling away, he looked at the lad's face, red, sweated, eyes dilated with lust; such a good look on him. He trailed his hands down his chest, groping, pinching and biting, wanting to leave his mark on this perfect, young body.

He pushed the lad's legs apart and admired the view. Then he pressed his lips to his inner thigh, moving his mouth upwards, licking and sucking the tender flesh, enjoying the needy sounds Carver was making. Then he finally reached for that beautiful cock, exploring him with his fingertips first, tracing every contour, every vein before tightening his grip. Carver moaned and his hips rocked up.

"Stay still," he ordered, putting his other hand on the lad's hip, to keep him down as he stroked his cock, hard and fast. Inhaling the lad's musky scent, he started to lick and suck his balls. It didn't take long, before the lad came, strong.

"_Fuck_, boss!"

"Oh, I will," he chuckled. "More than once."

He lifted Carver's legs, pushed them up against his chest and placed the lad's hands under his knees. "Hold it there," he ordered, his voice harsh and hoarse. He quickly positioned himself between the lad's legs, and –

and Carver started _giggling_ again. "Eeeeew Meeran. What are you doing?"

"Shut up, Carver."

"But you are li-aaaaaah!"

Meeran smirked and pushed is finger deeper into that ass. It seemed he found the most reliable way to stop that giggling.

Maker, but the lad was responsive, rolling his hips, eagerly pushing back on his fingers, as he added the second, then the third one. Then he pulled them out; Carver moaned in protest.

"Don't worry, this will be even better," he gasped, positioning himself between the lad's legs. "I'm going to fuck you, Carver, nice and hard, and you will love it."

He shoved his cock in and it took all his control not to start pounding into that hot tightness mercilessly at the same moment. He leant forward, crushing the lad lips, giving him time to adjust to the sensation.

"Does it hurt? Should I stop?" He asked dutifully, though he had no real intention to stop at all.

"Naaah, it's just weird," said the lad and yes, he giggled again. "So it really _can _fit?"

With a feral growl, he started to move, unable to hold on any longer, trying to build a steady rhythm, he wanted this to last as long as possible. But Carver was so hot and tight that he was losing his mind.

Never mind, he thought, when he came much sooner than he wanted, wrapping his arms around the lad, nibbling at his ear. The night was not over yet...

oOo

Where was he? And why was he naked? And why did his whole body hurt? The pain flashed in his brain and he closed his eyes again. He had drunk too much, it seemed. With who? Wait, that's right. Meeran invited them to the Rose.

He groaned. _Oh no_. He turned, expecting to see some ugly whore. Instead, there was –

"Are you finally awake, lad? How do you feel?"

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

"What am I - don't you remember, Carver?"

"... No. Everything is just a blur. Why? What should I remember?"

"We had sex, Carver."

That didn't make any sense. Meeran was not a freak like him, Meeran was real man. There was no way he would have sex with him… Unless – oh no. Oh Maker, please, _no_.

"I... did I force you? When I was drunk? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Meeran stared at him, shocked, then started laughing. His head almost exploded by the sound and he groaned in protest. Meeran shut up immediately. He picked up his clothes from the floor, and took out the healing potion hidden in one of the pockets.

"Here. Drink this, you will feel better."

He gratefully obeyed, and the headache stopped almost immediately. "So what was so funny?"

"Carver. _I. Fucked. You_. Three times, in fact. And it was fantastic."

That made even less sense. "Why would you do that? Were they out of whores?"

Meeran looked at him, amused. "No, silly. I did it because I _wanted_ to do it."

"So you decided to get me drunk and have your way with me... It was my first time, you know. And I don't even remember it. Just my luck."

"Back to your grumpy self, I see. Pity. You were so adorable before." Meeran sighed. "I am sorry you don't remember it. It was amazing."

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. Something like this could only happen to him. Rett would laugh his ass off, if he knew. He had sex with the man he was madly in love with and he couldn't remember it. That was bad enough, but the worse thing was that for Meeran, he was obviously just that - an easy fuck, give him drinks and he'll get all adorable (he shuddered in disgust) and spread his legs.

"Carver. I am sorry. But I desired you for so long, ever since the first time I saw you, and I thought you wouldn't want an old guy like me, otherwise I wouldn't... I really like you Carver."

He looked up at Meeran and sighed again. "I guess I should kill you. Rett would."

It seemed Meeran was scared by that idea – genuinely scared. He got up and Meeran flinched.

"Now calm down, lad, there's no need to..."

He grabbed him and threw him back on the bed, pinning him with his body before he could get up.

"But before I make my mind... you're going to do it properly, old man."

Meeran was surprised for about two seconds, then easily flipped them. "Oh, I will," he chuckled.

"This time, you won't forget it till the end of your days. I promise."


	4. Cheers to Love

For CMDA challenge Love Potion no. 9

Thanks to Seika for her quick help and comments. :)

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><p><strong>Cheers to Love<strong>

"Welcome to the Black Emporium, Serah Hawke. How can we be of service today?"

Dora blinked. The Black Emporium? She looked at the urchin, who worked in the shop as Xenon's assistant. How in the Fade did she get there? She only wanted to go for a little walk around Hightown, to clear her head. But it was useless. All she could think about was him, his lithe body, unruly white hair, piercing green eyes, and lips that were so beautiful when he smiled. Such a pity it was a rare occurrence. It had been a year and a half since she rescued him from the slavers; every day since she was becoming more and more obsessed, as if he had cast some love spell on her. Which was nonsense, of course; Fenris hated anything even slightly related to magic. That, and he was barely aware she existed.

"Serah Hawke?"

"I - I just came to see if there are any new items that could be of interest to me," she said quickly. "Nothing particular, just to see if there is anything useful."

Perhaps it would help. This weird shop always had a calming effect on her; she could spend hours going through all of the interesting weapons, amulets, ingredients and spell books, admiring them, examining them and adding them into her secret wish list of Things She Must Have Once She Is Dirty Rich. This time, however, it didn't work. She saw a silver amulet – and thought of his hair in the moonlight; she saw an enchanted sword – and thought of how muscles on his back tensed when he was fighting.

"Ahh. I see," Xenon said. For some reason, he sounded very amused. "I think _this_ particular nothing is in the potions section, third shelf from the top, second flask from the left."

Curious to see what it was the old guy thought she needed, she walked over to the shelf he mentioned. The second from the left was small crystal flask, with bright red liquid in it. "Love Potion", the label read. Could it be? This little flask was supposed to be a love potion?

"That little flask is _indeed_ a love potion," Xenon confirmed smugly.

She took the flask and examined the bright liquid; she opened it to check the smell, but it didn't have any. "And it really works? You give this to someone and boom, he loves you?"

"All of my items work, Serah Hawke. I do not sell frauds. Within one day after consumption, the person who drinks this will be in love."

Hm...it was true that all of the things she had bought here were always awesome, but still... "And the price?"

"Real bargain!" Xenon assured her. "One sovereign. I also highly recommend to purchase _Pictorial Manual on Correct Use of Love Potions_. Fifty sovereigns."

Fifty? One sovereign was already too much – she would have to take that money from the savings for the expedition. She chewed her lip. Anyway, without the book...on the other hand, how difficult it could be to use a potion? And one sovereign wasn't _that_ much. What was the worse it could happen? Hm. That last question was worth asking.

"What is the worst that can happen, if it doesn't work?" she asked aloud. "It won't poison the person who drinks it, will it?"

"Nothing that dramatic. The person who drinks it will not be hurt in any way. I am afraid, however, that if you wish to know more, you will have to buy the book."

"No need." Fenris won't die, or be injured in any way – that was enough for her. "I'll take just the potion, please."

"Without the manual, it is your own responsibility, Serah Hawke. We will not accept any complaints," Xenon warned her, as she was leaving.

She nodded in agreement, but her mind was already elsewhere. There was so much to do! Plan the dinner. Invite Fenris. Find some excuse for Mother. Buy some nice wine. Nice _red_ wine. She smiled. Everything will be perfect.

oOo

"Hawke," Fenris sounded positively desperate. "Hawke, you must help me."

Pleading Fenris? Oh, yes! "Of course I will help you. What is the problem?" Dora asked, trying hard to seem innocent. Though it didn't seem necessary – the elf wasn't his usual observant and snarky self tonight.

"Ever since that dinner yesterday, I feel as if I am on fire," he complained, his voice pained and sexy. "I can't sleep, I can't think clearly, and I'm blabbering nonsense, worse than Anders!"

"Oh Fenris! That _is_ horrible! Are you ill? Do you think was the food?" she asked innocently, unwilling to let the game end. He was so adorable like this!

Fenris shook his head. "No. I don't think it was the food. You see, all I can think about, are those eyes, so beautiful yet so sad, as if they saw too much suffering..."

Her eyes were beautiful, all right. But sad? Whatever he was blabbering about? He was obviously more confused than she expected, but that wasn't such a big price for what would inevitably follow.

"... and I can't help but think how would that hair feel in my hands...how the touch of those sexy lips would feel..."

See, that was much better. "That can be easily solved," she purred and leaned closer to him.

Fenris looked at her, those beautiful green eyes full of hope. "So you think he won't mind? Do you think I have a chance with him?"

She must have heard wrong. Or it was just a slip of the tongue. He said 'him', but he really meant 'you'. "_Him?" _she laughed. "My poor confused sweetheart..."

"Him. Gamlen. Who did you think I was talking about?_" _


	5. Lies of Hope

For Suilven, as thank you for organizing CMDA Mid-Year Exchange. What would we do without you, lady? :D

And thanks to my wonderful beta Seika for her help. :)

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><p><strong>Lies of Hope<strong>

Garett Hawke had such gentle hands. And gentle eyes. He looked at him as if he was a real person, worthy of respect, and not just a whore. When he held him in his arms or kissed him on the brow, it almost felt as if he cared. He would sometimes complain, ranting about the nobles or politics, always listening to his opinion, as if what he said really mattered. There were nights when they didn't do anything more than talk.

"You are my only real friend, Jethann. The only one who listens."

Year after year Hawke came, asking only for him. Even when his rank dropped and his price decreased and Madame discretely suggested someone younger, more fresh, Hawke never wanted anyone else. Often he left extra money, or brought expensive gifts.

Was it so strange, then, that he let his guard down and dared to hope?

Looking back, he couldn't believe what a fool he was. Wasn't it hope that brought him to the Rose in the first place? The hope for a better life? When Cerimon had first approached him–back then, he was a premium service–he was sure that the Maker himself had sent him. It had almost been a full month after he ran away from home. He didn't want to be a punching bag for Mother's new friend any more. He had thought he would find a job to support himself, but nobody wanted to hire a knife-ear brat with hungry eyes. They were afraid he would steal.

Cerimon had saved him. Picked him up from the street, gave him food and clothes, and didn't ask anything for it. They were friends. Very close, very special friends, Cerimon said. So when he asked for a kiss or a touch, it was the least Jethann could do. He didn't like it and always feel awkward after it, but it was better than living alone again. Cerimon was patient. Little by little, he began to ask for more. Always gentle, always making it pleasant for him, as well.

So when Cerimon asked him to help earn money, he hadn't expected anything bad. He was happy that he could work, and secretly hoped he would not have to 'show his gratitude' in that other way anymore. Maker, what a fool he was! Cerimon took him to Madame Lusine. She was enchanted by him, and called him a little sweetheart.

Then the true grooming began.

Still he hoped, Maker-damn fool that he was, that it was not forever, that Cerimon loved him and that one day, they would leave together.

But, once you're a whore there's no going back. Everyone looked at you as a whore, everyone talked to you as a whore, everyone assumed you liked it. That you enjoyed their rough hands and faces, the drops of sweat falling from their brows, their panting. It didn't matter if they hurt you. You have to like it, because you're a whore. You wouldn't be a whore if you didn't enjoy it. So you can't stop. Ever. Hundreds of men and women, using his body for masturbation, expecting him to smile and thank them for it.

With every smile, a piece of himself died.

Then came the man with gentle hands who talked of friendship and understanding, of leaving this damned town together. Like a fool, Jethann dared to hope again. He still hoped, each time the door opened.

And each time, hope failed him.


	6. Raw Justice

This was written ages ago, when we had fun playing 'Consequences' on CMDA... you get a place, two characters, and one quote, and you're must write a story about it. I finally decided to share these little pices of silliness.

Thanks to my wonderful beta ShebasDawn for her help. :D

* * *

><p><strong>Raw Justice<strong>

Justice stared at the sun symbol branded on the brow of the shop assistant, feeling the rage gather in him like storm clouds in August. "This is injustice!" he thundered.

"Yes, Ser. How can I help you, Ser?" the assistant replied in the indifferent voice. "If you are looking for appearance-changing mirrors, I am afraid we cannot help you. You should try Xenon's shop in Kirkwall."

"I don't waste my time on vanity, when there is so much injustice to fight!" he thundered again, the raw magic cracking through his dead skin like lightning.

"Healing potions for sore throat are in to the left, in the Potions section, third column, fifth row from the top. Poultices for skin injuries are in the seventh column, second row."

Normal or tranquils, humans were always too frustrating. Was it even worth trying to save them? Justice couldn't say. But it was his sacred duty and he would save them, he would save them if it was the last thing he did! He just wanted to thunder it to the assistant, when the door opened and in walked the weirdest couple.

The first was a man was tall and bulky, with a thick bushy mop on the head; only closer look revealed it was indeed hair, eyebrows, moustache and a beard. There might have been eyes hidden somewhere there, but Justice couldn't be sure. The ugly bloody smear on his nose did nothing to improve the impression. The other was an elf; next to his companion he looked odd, lacking two or three dozens of pounds of fat and fur. His own hair was smooth and neat and the colour of the sky at sunset; it matched with his deep, dark blue eyes.

Justice caught himself staring at the elf, and try to turn away before they noticed, but he two had eyes only for each other and didn't pay any attention to him. The elf was flitting around the human, like a puppy on lyrium, bowing and complimenting him, and dusting off the nonexistent speck from the man's coat.

"_Jethann,_" the human huffed, sounding half annoyed-half amused, "you damned cheeky monkey, for the last time, behave. Or I'll sell you together with the runes. Hey, assistant! How much would you pay for a pretty elf like this?"

"You are mean. I can't help it. You know how I enjoy serving you." The elf purred the last two words leaning on the man's chest. "Besides, this establishment can't afford me."

"Don't count of that… I'm sure I will find an artifact or two for which I can trade you."

For a reason Justice couldn't even start to comprehend, the elf found that funny and started to laugh. His laugh had funny effect on Justice, making his heart flutter in the weirdest way. Confused, he stopped to think about it; in the end he decided it was just a new manifestation of sympathy with the oppressed elf slave. Trying hard to please his cruel master, with nothing but ingratitude and threats as a reward. It was injustice! With capital I! He had to do something about it, NOW.

He stormed to the human and pushed him away from the elf. "Freedom to the slaves!" he roared. "Stay away from him, evil scumbag! I will not allow you to treat him as a plaything!"

The man gaped at him, but the elf laughed and cuddled against Justice's chest. "Yes, protect me against the wrongs from Hawke!"

Justice's heart fluttered again. He looked down into those blue eyes sparkling with the mischief, and completely lost his mind. Nothing else could explain the kiss.

The next moment, he was flying. He landed on the shelter, scattering the potions, runes and even the assistant's accounting book all around. The assistant calmly asked him not to make the mess, but there was no time to apologize, as the human picked him and shook him.

"What are you doing with my monkey?!" he yelled; his voice wasn't as thundering as Justice's own, of course, but it was still rather impressive, for a human. And his grip was strong. Justice could only wriggle helplessly, as the man shook him again.

"He's not monkey, you scumbag!" he squeaked. "He's an elf! A person! With feelings and rights like any other person! You can't treat him like this. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!"

"Get lost, you idiot spirit! I want to talk to Anders. NOW! Or I'll swear I'll shake you out of him!" As if to prove he meant it, the human shook him again.

Justice admitted the defeat. No sense arguing with the brute. Grudgingly he retreated, letting his mage host out once again. It was grave injustice, but for now, let his mage deal with this mess. There would be plenty more opportunity for fighting for his just cause. From his own cozy corner of the mage's mind, he watched his mage apologize to Hawke and Jethann, swearing he would never snuff the raw lyrium again. Justice frowned – that would be problematic – but then his face cleared and his lips twirled into a smirk. If Anders wanted to give up raw lyrium for his brutish friend, let him.

_He_ didn't promise anything, now did he?


End file.
